Unimportant
by awaywithoutleave
Summary: These are the stories of the unimportant and the unmentioned. Or, in other words, the ones who are sick of being ignored.
1. Chapter 1

**So, this is my first fanfiction! It'll be about all the unimportant and unmentioned magicians and campers of The House of Life and the camps . I just thought it would be really interesting to see things from their point of view, while they are constantly in the shadows of the main heroes. **

**Anyway, don't expect me to update quickly, because this is just something I'll be doing in my free time and when I have ideas. Y'know, quick little things.**

**Disclaimer: All rights go to Rick Riordan! (Is that how you do it?)**

* * *

Angie spun behind Max, letting him parry the incoming strike. She whirled in, destroying the off-balance monster with ease.

"Good job, squirt. You are so much better than I was at your age. It's crazy!" Max's eyes sparkled.

He gave her a proud smile, before turning back to fight. She blushed, happy with herself, even if the compliment was a little childish for her.

She always loved getting compliments, especially from her brother. That was normal—who didn't like getting complimented?—but Angie always cherished them like no other. Whenever she was feeling down, she'd think about someone appreciating her, and bam! she was all better. Angie tried to teach other people how to feel good from them, how to not overthink compliments, but they always complained and said it didn't work.

She didn't mind not being able to share the skill with other people. Somehow, keeping it to herself made it all the more special. A little thing to make her who she was, or something cheesy like that.

Angie was constantly in awe with her brother. The easy way he dispatched opponents, and the grace he had in defeat. He wasn't anywhere near, say, Percy Jackson's level, but that was just the way she liked Max. He was out of the limelight, but still respected by his peers, which was where Angie. She never wanted to be a big hero, like Percy or Thalia. There was too much pressure to do well, to be in charge. Angie didn't think she could stand it. She still freaked out whenever she had to present something to her class in school!

No, Angie wanted to be exactly like Max when she would be his age: strong, happy, and skilled. He was her role model, and he was perfect.

She tuned back into the battle at hand. They were trying to stop the flow of monsters coming from the Labyrinth. Angie could see Percy and Annabeth fighting Kampê near them, and more importantly, Max fighting in front of her.

Angie knew he was protecting her more than she needed. She was thirteen, only in her second summer at camp, but he was a little too overbearing. She didn't mind, it was rather nice to have somebody look out for her. Just, some things could be changed, like how whenever she goes out into the woods, she needs someone that Max trusts with her. But, in the bigger picture, he was still the best. Imperfections make people interesting, and maybe a little more perfect as a result.

Jeez, Angie thought. She was being really corny today.

She admired the way Max moved, efficiently cutting off monsters' heads. No extra moves, no needless bravado, just pure skill.

Max turned to her with another smile, but his expression turned to horror as he looked over her shoulder. Before Angie had any notion of what that meant, a sharp, cold object entered her stomach.

A small gasp played on her lips, more from realization of what was happening than pain. She looked down to see a dull grey and red sword—no, the sword wasn't red, that was her blood—poking through her stomach.

It twisted itself inside her, made itself welcome, and she fell to her knees with a terrified moan. The sword then took its leave, seemingly happy with its stay.

Was someone calling her name?

Angie looked up to see Max fighting his way toward her, but there were so many monsters and he kept getting pushed back.

A dracanae blocked her view of Max. She was grinning triumphantly, her blade dripping with blood.

My own blood, Angie realized.

While somehow making her smile bigger that it already was, the dracanae raised her sword. The last thing Angie thought was:

_Well, maybe I wasn't supposed to be like Max after all._

* * *

**I know it isn't that long, but I like to think you can make up your own backstories. At least, that's what I like doing. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys! Sorry for the realllly long wait, I was gone for a week, and then I was in Hawaii for another week, and then I had to catch up in school, so I've been busy. Thank you for the reviews and follows!**

**Now lemme reply to the amazing reviewers:**

**Guest: Thank you! I'd been thinking about the concept in my head for a while, and I just finally decided to write about it!**

**Canorous: Aw, thanks! And don't be so hard on yourself, I'm sure you'll be successful soon! Just keep writing. Besides, every review matters.**

**My name is Jeff: Thank you, but I wouldn't be so sure about liking it better than the real books and the King himself. I'm nothing compared to him! **

**Disclaimer: All rights go to Rick Riordan!**

* * *

Jake, the easygoing likable guy he tends to be, is seriously pissed. Sure, he understood that when you save the world and host the most powerful gods you could, people look up to you, and you deserved a hell of a lot of praise.

What Jake didn't understand was why there were the only ones to get any. Sure, Amos made an announcement at the end of the war telling everyone that had stayed loyal to the Kanes how well they did, and even pardoned the people that were against them, but that was it. And it wasn't like anyone that weren't the Kanes acknowledged the fact that they themselves had been a part of the war either.

No, it's just Carter did this, Sadie did that. Walt died! No pride in surviving Apophis, nothing. And it wasn't like anyone from the First Nome or the Twenty-First Nome ever asks for any other nomes' help. Nah, they got it all figured out.

Jake shook his head. Things have always infuriated him like that, not that he can really change anything. He wasn't even sure that the Kanes knew that they were doing this, that they were such big stars.

He walks through the 134th Nome, which is located in Vancouver. They have a lot of abnormal activity around here, the most recent being the burning down of a mansion in Lynn Canyon. When they were at the site, they found what seemed to be bonfires, and the sand you get when you kill a demon. And, strangely, potatoes.

No one was really sure what happened.

Jake walked through the door to the kitchen, which had apparently decided that it wanted to make dinner by itself. Pots and pans were flying around, and a bag of flour almost beaned him on the head. The cook for the day, according to the schedule, was Kyra Simmons. She was no-where to be found, which was probably why the kitchen had decided to make lunch itself.

That was the something special about the 134th Nome. It had a mind of its own. Rooms magically appeared and disappeared, stairs turned into escalators with barely a moment's notice. And, of course, the kitchen could cook.

Jake walked around the island counter, a man on a mission to get a glass of water, when he tripped over something hard and fell right onto a conveniently placed pile of dishrags.

"Geroff my pillow." A small voice came from behind him. He flipped over and slowly got up, rubbing his elbow where it had smashed into the floor.

"What? Your pillow? Jesus, Kyra, what are you doing?" Lying on the floor, squished into the side of the island, was Kyra, half-asleep and glaring up at him.

"Hopefully you're smart enough to figure that out. I was awake late last night." She yawned.

"Why did you go to sleep here, though? I thought you usually stole Kieran's bed." He tilted his head.

"Yeah, I usually do," she stretched, all bones and freckles, "but I think he bribed the house or something and it locked me out. The kitchen was just the next best thing."

"Bribed the house? Is that even possible?"

"I guess?" She held out a hand and he helped her up. "I mean, the house is a whimsical little thing. It can do whatever the hell it wants."

Jake smiled. "I'm not sure whimsical is the right word, or little for that matter, but whatever."

Kyra grinned at him. "That's the spirit." She walked off. "Come on, I want to show you something."

"What about lunch?" Jake asked. He was a little reluctant to leave the kitchen alone to make food by itself.

"We won't be gone long. It'll be fine. You can get your Coke later." She was waiting by the door.

"How did you know I wanted something? And besides, I only wanted water." He started to follow her, slightly unconvinced, but she had a _ah hell, what could go wrong? _attitude that was hard to shut down.

"I'm magic, silly. I have an approximate knowledge of many things."  
"Yeah, sure. And isn't that from Adventure Time?" He cocked his head at her again.

There was a silence.

"Oh, do shut up, Jake."

* * *

They stood in front of the door to Kyra's room. She had become progressively more jumpy and nervous as they walked along, making Jake all the more excited and curious.

When they had finally gotten to the staircase that led to the floor that her room was on, she had ran ahead and opened her door, then gave out what sounded suspiciously like a yelp, and ran back to him.

Things like that made Jake remember how young she actually was, only twelve. He was five years older than her, but she had been through so much more than him.

Her parents, two magicians, had been killed in a demon attack when she was four, leaving her on her own with her aunt. And even that didn't last long, her aunt died two years later from a heart attack. He couldn't imagine what that would have been like to go through.

"Jake? You okay in there?" Kyra's voice came suddenly, forcing him out of his thoughts.

"What? Oh yeah, I'm fine. Just wondering what this whole thing could be, I guess." He shrugged lamely at her.

"You guess you were wondering? Oh, dear. That doesn't sound good." Kyra looked at him, mock concern on her face. Jake rolled his eyes. "Alright, now, Jakey-boy, this is it. You can't tell anybody about this, a'ight? I'm trusting you, and I don't want this to become something I regret," she turned the handle on the door.

"Don't worry, Kyra, I won't tell anybody," he said, his eyes watching her hand on the doorknob. She had made him way more curious than he'd like to admit.

Kyra opened the door a little, peeking through the small crack. "Okay, come in," she said.

At first, Jake didn't see anything different in her room. Books scattered across the floor, a pile of clothes in the corner. It all looked the same as before.

Until, of course, he turned around.

On Kyra's bed, tangled in a pile of ripped up sheets, was a lion with a falcon's head.

"A hieracosphinx…" Jake breathed, his eyes glued to the bed. "Kyra, what the hell is this?" He put himself in between the monster and her.

"No, Jake, it's okay! I've trained him, he won't hurt you!" She forced her way in front of him.

"Trained it? Kyra, this is insane! You can't train a monster!" The sphinx stretched, opening its falcon beak in what seemed to be a yawn.

"Yes, I did train it. You're just like everyone else, saying that monsters will kill you on the spot, that you should never trust them." Kyra seemed to have rehearsed this conversation, because Jake couldn't remember saying anything of the sort. "Well, I just proved them wrong, didn't I? Look at him."

They both looked. The hieracosphinx had curled up and was acting just like a sleepy cat.

"See?" Kyra glared up at him. "Perfectly harmless," she said fiercely, like she was trying to convince him _and _herself.

Good, Jake thought, she's unsure of herself. I can convince her not to do this.

"This isn't a good idea, Kyra. It's not safe." He tried to look understanding and supportive, but stern with disapproval. It didn't work.

"When is anything we do safe? This is nothing compared to what we do! We're magicians, we fight gods!"

"This is different! Yeah, what we do is dangerous, but we don't put ourselves in danger like this, for no good reason. What we do always has a good reason, not having a monster as a pet! This is going to get you killed," he shook his head.

"No, it won't!"

Jake groaned in frustration. "It's a monster, Kyra. When they see, they try to kill you!"

"Well, don't we do that to them too? When we see a monster, we kill it! And besides, if monsters just kill you, why hasn't Baxter—."

"You named it Baxter?"

"Yes!" Kyra growled. "And, as I was saying, why hasn't Baxter tried to kill us yet?"

Jake was silent. She had a point; the hieracosphinx hadn't made a move to hurt them, or even a move at all. He started to get an uneasy feeling.

Finally, he spoke. "Oh, I don't know, Kyra. I don't know why it isn't hostile, but trust me on this. You have to let it go." Jake was about to say: 'or kill it', but he had a feeling that wouldn't help his cause.

"No!" Kyra was shocked. "I'm not going to let it go!"

Jake groaned. He knew full well that he wasn't going to get anywhere with her. "Alright, Kyra. Can we please not talk about this now?"

"You promise me that you won't tell anyone?"

"Yes, I promise." Jake heard how irritated he sounded.  
"I don't believe you," Kyra said, distrust evident in her eyes. Yet again, she reminded him how young she actually was. A stubbornness only found in children was alight in her face.

Jake shook himself out of his thoughts. He sounded like a lonely middle-aged guy that had nothing better to do in life but reminisce about the good times and pretend to be wise.

Jake stopped. He had realized that he was imagining his dad. Was his dad really lonely, though?

"Jake?" Kyra peered up at him. "Anyone in there?"

"What?" He was momentarily frazzled. "Oh, right. Kyra, I promise I won't tell anyone about the sphinx."

Her face screwed up, and he knew she still didn't believe. Not much of a surprise.

"I know there isn't anything else I can say that'll make you believe me, but you gotta trust me on this." He turned to face her head-on, and without realizing it, turned his back on the hieracosphinx.

Which is, of course, when it decided to strike.

* * *

**I'm really sorry. Don't worry, though! I'll come back to these guys, and Angie and Max from the last chapter!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Wow, this was a quickie! Well, sorta... I already had this one written before I even started the others! **

**I think this will actually turn into a real story, instead of just one shots. I have a vague plot outline in my head.**

**And thank you, the chosen one, for being the sole reviewer! (Well, I shouldn't judge. I only had the second chapter up for a day or two)**

**Disclaimer: All rights go to Rick Riordan (do I even still have to do this?)**

* * *

"Ms. Harley?"

Jacqueline had messed up. She wasn't sure how, and she wasn't sure when, but the universe had decided it wanted to get a jump-start on ruining her life before anyone else did. And it wasn't even Monday.

"Ms. Harley, please answer the question."

"What? Oh… uh. Sorry. Can you, um, repeat the question?" The officer gazed at her, concerned.

"Miss, are you okay? Do you need anything? A glass of water, maybe?"

"No, no, I'm fine. Just… a little out of it. You know…" She trailed off awkwardly, and stared at her hands. That nail on her right thumb was looking mighty interesting.

"Ms. Harley, I'm sure that this has been a very hard week for you, but it is very important that you cooperate. Do you understand?" He smiled at her, but Jacqueline could tell his calm, friendly demeanour was a little strained.

"Yeah, I understand." Jacqueline said with a sigh.

There was an unknown substance on the wall above the officer. She wasn't sure if it looked like a pair of headphones or some kind of demonic bear.

"Good," the officer leaned back in his chair. A badge flashed on his shirt, proudly displaying the name: Vincent Young. "Now, will you please tell me what happened this past week?" He straightened a folder on his desk. "Julie! Where is that girl? Apologies, Ms. Harley, but I would like the stenographer in here to write this up."

"No problem." Jacqueline said, relaxing a little in her chair.

The officer, Vincent, was in his mid forties, and had greying hair. He had a kind face, slightly marred by that beaten down look that came with years of never being able to catch a break. He probably had two, three kids and an eternity of fatigue.

Julie, the stenographer, bustled in, filling the air with busy thoughts and some kind of lavender perfume. Everything about her was round and comfy-looking, except her fingers, which were long and nimble, perfect for typing her heart out.

"Whoop! I am out of it today! Something about Saturdays, huh?" She made herself comfortable in a straight-backed chair. "Okay, dearie. Talk away!"

Jacqueline looked at the officer. He nodded, a small smile on his face that was probably trying to be reassuring.

"Go on. Don't worry about going off on tangents, or talking about something unimportant. Just, treat it like you're reading a story. Like it isn't about you. I'm sure it will be calming for you, Ms. Harley. Besides, you seem like someone who keeps all the details about yourself in the things that people don't notice."

Jacqueline nodded gratefully. She took a deep breath, pulled her coat around her, and opened her mouth.

* * *

_I was walking back from work, just having gotten off the bus, when I saw her. She was a little girl, shivering in a raincoat and shorts. She was maybe seven or eight._

_It had been snowing non-stop for the past few weeks, and the girl was up to her knees. I looked around, but we were the only two people in the neighborhood, it seemed._

_I never really understood why, how whenever you need something it's not there. It seems like a cliché that has no right to hold water._

_The girl was shivering violently, staring up at the sky, as it slowly got darker. She tried to hide in her coat, but I burst forward, having seen enough. It's one thing to pass a homeless person on the street wrapped in blankets. When you see a tiny girl alone with nothing, a part of you brain you never knew you had takes action._

_I started to cross the street, hurrying along with my bag banging against my leg with every other step._

_The girl looked up, startled, as it hit me with a particularly loud bang. She started to walk away quickly, and I realized what she probably saw._

_Someone wrapped in a large, black overcoat, soaking wet jeans, and over-sized combat boots, carrying a duffel bag filled with who-knows-what. The girl probably thought I was going to kidnap her._

_"Wait!" I said, waddling along as fast as I could. "I'm not going to hurt you!" My bag swung forward and I nearly fell over. "I just want to know if you're okay!"_

_"I'm fine, Jacqueline. Leave me alone."_

_I stopped in my tracks._

_I had just finished eight hours of being yelled at by a co-worker, I'd had my shirt caught on my desk ripping irreparably, and, you know, I'd had an all-around horrible day, but now, to top it off, a girl that was running away from my help seemed to think it was fine to know my name._

_She seemed to think it was perfectly fine to start to destroy the life I had built so very carefully out of the falling ashes of my child—._

* * *

Jacqueline paused.

The flying fingers of the stenographer wound to a stop.

"Ms. Harley?" The officer said. "Would you like to go on?"

His words were kind, but his eyes were suspicious as they scrutinized her face.

"Yeah. Sorry. Lost my train of thought." She smiled weakly at the two of them. They didn't look satisfied, but they didn't press. For that, she was grateful.

"Well, go on honey," Julie said. "Anytime you're ready."

Jacqueline stared at the space between the window and infinity.

One breath, two…

* * *

_I was fed up._

_That's the only way to put it. My last nerve had been hanging on for dear life, and it was fraying. I guess I thought it was better to confront the girl before the nerve snapped and I decided to bash her head in._

_I was tired, and the mere thought of someone having the audacity to get in the way of me and sleep was enough to make me go ballistic._

_"Missy, I have no idea who you are, nor do I care, but if you try to refuse my help again I will tie you up and force-feed you until your little bones are nowhere to be found."_

_I won't say I was particularly proud of that moment, but it had the intended effect._

_The girl stopped, turned around and folded her arms._

_"Why do you care so much about me?" The girl said. She hadn't budged an inch, but she wasn't running away either, so it was a start. "I mean I'm just this kid on the street. You walk by a bunch of kids on the street all the time with no worries."_

_"Okay, lesson one for the day," I strode toward her, trying to look formidable. I'm not sure it worked. The girl's smirk was getting wider as I got closer. "You aren't a kid. For one, kids don't call themselves kids. You should know that about for the people you're possessing."_

_"People I'm possessing?" The girl was starting to look confused._

_"Yes. You obviously aren't a kid. That's behind us now." She rolled her eyes. "So I've decided that the only way anyone could be like you in a body like that is by possession." I was only a couple of feet away from her now. "So, what are you? Demon, jinni, ghost? Ooh! Are you the ghost of my grandmother? Is that how you know my name?"_  
_The girl just stared at me, hands wavering above her elbows like they weren't sure where to go. The smirk had faded._

_I sighed. "I'm sorry, I'm just worried about you. You seem very tired and hungry, and I just want to know if you need help. Do you?"_

_The girl just went right on staring at me. She seemed to be fighting with herself, and every little ounce of the irritated, tangled mess in me just fell apart._

_She shivered, a little pitiful gesture. Sadly, it was the only motion that seemed at home in her weak body._

_Even though I already knew the answer, could see it in her eyes, I waited for her conformation._

_When she finally nodded, I was already halfway through taking my oversized parka off. She took the jacket without a word, and disappeared inside._

_"Come on, my apartment is a few blocks away." We traveled through the snow like a strange couple, one holding onto the other for dear life as she tripped over her very large coat._

_I turned the heat up all the way once we got to my apartment, biting my lip as I thought of the bill. The girl was still inside the parka, sitting on the couch, and I was starting to doubt that she could actually get the coat off._

_"So." I popped onto the couch after putting a frozen pizza in the oven. "I still don't know your name."_

_"Bryn." The girl's voice was getting back to the strength it had been before. I handed her an orange._

_"Okay, Bryn. You already know my name. Impossibly. But I won't dwell on that now—."_

_"Yeah, of course I know your name, Jack, how could I not?" I froze._

_Jack was my childhood nickname, given to me by a boy named Chris in grade seven. He had said that he wanted his name to be Jack and that if someone had a name close to Jack and wasn't called it it was a sin. It just ended up sticking._

_That didn't make the fact that Bryn knew my name and my old nickname okay. I definitely didn't think it was a coincidence._

_She seemed to realize this, and pushed her hands into the folds of the coat, the orange disappearing within. Her mouth moved in a silent apology._

_I settled down into myself, trying to put the strange nature of her knowledge of me behind us. I knew it would have done no good to pry for answers._

_"So, Bryn. Where are you from?"_

_"Why should I tell you?" Bryn snapped. I jerked back before I realized she hadn't moved. It felt like she had punched me, like each word was carefully articulated to kill._

_"Ok, whoa. I'm trying to help you. No need to be so testy."_

_"Sorry," she muttered. I smiled sadly. Bryn was a child, and apologizing to adults was still second nature to her._

_"Care to tell me now where you're from?"_

_"Houston." I tilted my head. There was a slow drawl in her voice that I had noticed but hadn't placed._

_She seemed to be waiting for a reaction to the fact that she was from Texas, but frankly the news that a southerner like her was in Toronto wasn't enough to faze me._

_"Okay, and how old are you?"_

_"Twelve." That, though, was enough to break through the wall of nothing-is-weirder-than-this I had put up._

_"Twelve! You're in grade seven? Jeez, I thought you were like eight! I guess it makes sense. You did seem very… articulate for a eight year old."_

_Bryn decided not to comment; finally peeling the orange I had given her. She had shrugged off the coat; it lay in a heap behind her._

_"Okay, moving on." I was struggling with myself, trying to stop my hand from reaching out for the phone and calling every police precinct in a 10-mile radius. "This question is a doozy. Why are you here, rather than in Houston? I mean, you're a runaway, right? You seem formidable, but I doubt anyone your age could go all the way across a country and cross a border by themselves."_

_I felt like I was pushing my luck, but she had just been very forthcoming before and I had no reason to believe she wouldn't continue to be. Besides, I wasn't sure what else to do while we waited for the pizza to be ready. She didn't exactly look happy to be in my apartment._

_Bryn stared at an orange piece before tensing up. She looked at me and her eyes were wary, but there was hopelessness in them. She didn't have anywhere else to go, or anything else to do. I was the only person she could tell, and the only person she could trust._

_"I came with my… mother, I guess."_

_"You guess?"_

_"Yeah. She never was much of a mother. I wasn't planned, and she wasn't ready. I got everything I needed, but other than that, I was pretty much left alone. She was more of a roommate than anything._

_"Except for..." She looked at me, thinking of what to say. "My mother was a fanatic, you could say. This thing she was working on, it consumed her. She would sometimes drag me out of my room and show me this new breakthrough of hers, and all I could do was watch. It was like watching a pastor get worked up over his sermon, except there was an insanity in her eyes that I've never seen in anyone else, pastor or otherwise. She was obsessed, and not until recently did I know—."_

_BEEP_

_My oven's timer went off and I nearly jumped out of my skin. Bryn dropped her orange._

_I hurried to get the pizza out of the oven and we ate in silence. Bryn didn't say another word about her mother and I didn't pry. I was still amazed that she had told me so much with so little pressing._

_I let her have my bed for the night, while I slept on the couch. She took my offer without a word, not even a nod of her head to show thanks._

_I tried not to take it personally, and settled myself onto the couch. I don't remember falling asleep, or even if I did fall asleep. My mind was spinning._

_Any thought of calling the police had vanished, and I wasn't planning on starting the chase just yet._

* * *

Jacqueline took a deep, hoarse breath. Her lungs seemed to have expanded inside her and blocked her airway. The air wouldn't stay down.

Julie laughed.

"You can take a breath, honey. We won't bite." Jacqueline smiled, a little embarrassed.

The officer didn't seem to notice her choking on oxygen in front of him. He was deep in thought, his chin resting in his hands. He looked like the stereotypical private eye, or maybe a therapist.

"Before you go on, Ms. Harley, do you mind explaining what this girl looks like?" Jacqueline jumped. She hadn't realized that the officer's mouth had moved.

"I told the sketch artist, if you'd like to see that." Jacqueline said.

"No, no. That's fine. Just explain her to me."

"Oh, uh, okay. Um," Jacqueline's mind was suddenly blank. There was something unnerving about how the officer was talking. He was almost looking at her, but his eyes just missed his mark and were instead looking at her scarf.

"Uh, she has brown hair. It's straight. Brown eyes. A wide face. Oh, I really don't know what to say! She has sunken eyes and she's skinny! I'm sorry, she didn't really have a remarkable face!" Jacqueline was almost yelling at this point. Her frustration levels had suddenly peaked—she didn't know why—but the officer didn't look surprised at her outburst.

"And you recognized her?" Jacqueline's blood went cold.

"I…yeah. I recognized her."

"Whom did she look like?"

"Charlie. I mean, Charlotte Harris. Friend from elementary."

"That's good. Go on." Jacqueline's breath misted out in front of her like a serene jellyfish slowly bobbing away. She had no idea how the officer had figured out that she had recognized the girl.

* * *

_The morning was just as silent as the previous night had been. Bryn was ravenous, eating her eggs and toast and drinking all her tea almost before I sat down._

_It was early—I still had work—but I had woken up to find Bryn sitting at the dining table, pointedly not looking at me. The girl showed no signs of sleep, and she wasn't back to normal yet. She was still too small and her eyes were too dark and lonely._

_"I have a dilemma," I said, chomping down on my own piece of toast. "I have to go to work. But I also have a mysterious girl in my apartment, that I don't really trust by herself. She has this background of running, I don't really know much about it. Anyway, I was wondering if you could give me some advice." Bryn looked at me. I raised an eyebrow._

_"And where do you work?" She didn't take the bait._

_"I'm a teacher at a middle school. Teach the seventh graders English." Her face whitened as she realized what I meant to do._

_"You can't take me to school with you!"_

_"Why not? You're the same age. You'd fit right in! I'll just say you're my niece." I smiled at her._

_"Do you have any siblings?" she hissed at me._

_"Oh. No, I do not." I ran a hand through my hair. "Well, maybe my friend is staying for the week and you're her daughter."_

_"Why would I be going to work with my mother's friend when I could just stay with my mother?" Her eyes were bright, excited._

_"Your mother is in the hospital seeing if she has cancer. It's a sob story about a single mother and her struggle. Come on now. I have some clothes I keep for my friend that'll probably fit you. She's tiny. Doesn't even reach five feet."_

_The trip to the school was silent. Bryn seemed to be sulking, while I was strangely happy. Bringing Bryn to work with me seemed right._

_When I opened the door to my classroom, the emptiness stared at me. I stared right back._

_Bryn looked around from the door, a little apprehensive to cross the threshold. I handed her a book and told her to sit in the empty chair, at the front of all the other empty chairs. She looked at it as if it was an entirely new concept._

_"What do you want me to do?" she asked, an expression of distaste on her face._

_"Read the first chapter. Obviously. My class just started a couple of days ago." I bit the end of my pen, trying to decipher the handwriting in front of me. I didn't look up from my work to see if she had started reading._

_The class started to trickle in, looking at Bryn with curious expressions and whispering to their friends. She ignored them, methodically turning the pages of the book. I'm pretty sure she had read more than one chapter._

_Once everyone was there, I clapped my hands. The class quieted down instantly. I grinned, as Bryn looked around in amazement at the obedient, silent kids all staring at me._

_"Hello, everyone! I'm sure you're wondering who this is." I flourished my hands at Bryn. "This is Bryn. She'll be visiting this class today." The class waved at her. She looked a little bemused._

_"Anyway!" I picked up the book and began the class. Bryn was mostly quiet, but she still raised her hand once or twice. She was relaxing into the role of student, and for an hour, she was happy._

_By the time the class was over, everyone looked exhausted. I had argued with the class the whole time, trying to get them to illustrate their ideas about the book better. The seventh graders were used to this, of course, but Bryn looked a little overwhelmed._

_I set down my pen as the last student closed the door behind him._

_"I still don't know your last name. Weird, since you're my friend's daughter. I should know your name. Care to remind me?" I tapped my pen against my leg and waited. She pursed her lips and slowly shook her head._

_"Oh, come on. It's the least you can do. Tell me your name."_

_"Fine." She glared at me. "My last name is Harris."_

_The pen slowly stopped tapping. A piece of hair fell in front of my face and barred my view. I didn't bother to move it._

_"H-harris? Your last name is Harris?" I moved quickly, dropping the pen on the desk and leaning forward toward Bryn. She moved back, her eyes wide. "No. That's impossible. You can't… You can't be…"_

_I dropped my head. A large, wracking sob fell out of my mouth._

_"Are you crying?" Bryn sounded shocked and very unsure of herself._

_"Why didn't you tell me earlier? You knew the entire time that I would know your last name." My head was still down, words broken in strange ways as my body shuddered with tears._

_"I've only been with you for a day! I barely know you! Why would I tell you my name?" She was tripping over her words, her voice scared._

_"What do you mean you don't know me? You know everything about me! I know your mother. I know what she's like. What were you thinking keeping it from me?" I hadn't moved from my bowed position, but my head was swaying dangerously near Bryn's knee._

_The door opened and the science teacher poked her head in. Her eyes were wide._

_"Are you two okay in here?"_

_I turned around in my chair. The teacher jumped back a little. "Bryn's mother," I pointed behind me, "Is in the hospital with cancer. Can you tell Mr. Steward that I won't be here for the rest of the day?"_

_The teacher nodded and danced away, her eyes alight with pity. It's funny how things can change people. Just yesterday she had yelled at me all day for the smallest, most unimportant things._  
_I grabbed my bag from my desk and stalked out. "Come on." I hissed at Bryn. She followed without a word, a strange expression on her face. It was a mixture between fear, realization, and an attempt at a poker face._

_I took her to her car, driving slowly and methodically. Bryn had no idea where we were going, not that I expected her too. She was from Texas._

_I swung into the parking space of a large park. It was cheery, bright, and lively. People were throwing Frisbees and baseballs, laughing with wide grins. I took Bryn to a bench a little away from everything._

_"Who are you?" My voice was calm, yet the anger was evident._

_"You already know who—."_

_"Tell me again." I wasn't going to give her a chance to hold any ground._

_"I'm Bryn Harris. I'm twelve and my mother is crazy. She's also your…" She hesitated. I motioned her on. "Your friend from childhood."_

_"Tell me about your mom." I wasn't looking at her, instead watching a dog run through the long grass. My voice had gone flat. I had no plan, no idea where this was going. And I didn't care._

_"Her name is Charlotte Harris. She moved to Houston before I was born. She's crazy because she's obsessed. It's not normal, and it's your fault. You made her that way, and she's never coming back." You would think her voice would be angry, raised at me because I did this horrible thing to her mother. No, her voice was strong and matter-of-fact. This was a part of her life, and she stated it like it was._

_I turned to look at her and she smiled. It was a sad smile, if a little bitter._

_"I don't need an apology. I never have, because I'm not the one that needs it. My mom is the one that deserves an apology. Can you do that?"_

_I turn away again. Her voice rose, suddenly frantic._

_"Jacqueline! Please! She's become something she never should have. She brings me into her study with a grand smile on her face and shows me charts, and theories, and Facebook profiles! And they're all about you! You realize that, don't you? It's all about you. Every single thing she talks about, every single thing she does, is about you. Just please…" Her voice breaks. "Apologize. Apologize for what you did to make her be like this. I don't even now what it was that happened, nor do I care. I just want you to say sorry."_

_I bowed my head. After a long agonizing moment, she slumped. "Please think about it? I'll be in the car." She left slowly, suddenly very old and frail. She knew I wouldn't apologize._

_I felt nothing. No sadness, no pain. No guilt for not being sorry. Nothing. I had gone blank._

_I sat on that bench for a very long time, thinking about everything yet nothing at all. When I finally made it back to the car, Bryn was gone. She wasn't in the car, and I had a feeling she never was._

_I climbed into the driver's seat and cried on the dashboard. The tears were slow and dark. I made no sound. Then I waited. I waited for the small glimmer of hope that Bryn was still around to diminish._

_The flame snuffed out, and I left._

_I call in sick for work the next day after a sleepless night. I don't really remember much of what happened that day. It's a blank spot in my memory, which is justified, I guess. The memories are there, but it's almost like a white, velvety space are surrounding them._

_The day after was a Saturday. The white land in my soul from the day before had left. I spent the whole day arguing with myself about whether or not to call the police. You can see where that left me._

_I called you guys the next day, or yesterday, and now I'm here._

* * *

Jacqueline raised her hands in a lame attempt to show that she was, in fact, there. They weren't up in the air for long.

There were tears sliding slowly down her face. She hadn't noticed when she had started crying.

"And that's it! Ha, it's quite a story, isn't it?"

"Yes, that was quite the story." The officer's eye were very soft, a fleck of hazel slowly sinking in the brown. "You are very strong, you know that?" He smiles, and it's very, very pained. "Thank you for sharing this with us. I'm sure it will be very helpful.

"I have some bad news. I'm sorry to drop it on you now, but I believe you should know. Yesterday, at two in the morning, there was a hit and run. Witnesses say a car ran a red light and hit a young girl crossing the street. She died at contact. We have identified that girl as Bryn Harris. I'm very sorry, Ms. Harley."

The white blank space in her was solidifying again. It was warm, and Jacqueline could feel herself slowly melting into its embrace. The officer went a little soft around the edges as her vision went fuzzy.

A pair of shoes solidified in front of her and she focused in on them. They were clean, but very old and frayed at the edges.

"Ms. Harley? You may go now, if you would like."

Jacqueline took her head off the table and nodded at the officer. She gathered her things in a daze and was about to head off when Julie called out to her.

"It's the end of my shift, hon. Would you like a drive home?" Jacqueline nodded, swaying in place.

The drive home was filled with too much colourful sound. The radio was on, and Julie had decided to grace Jacqueline with an impromptu concert.

Julie pulled up in front of Jacqueline's apartment on the dying notes of a Beatles song. As Jacqueline got out of the car with a barely audible thank you, Julie grabbed her arm.

"Hey, whatever you think, her death is not your fault, okay?" The words came with a practiced ease. Jacqueline nodded.

She sat at her table. It was just the telephone and her.

The whiteness, or blankness, was not a foreign concept for Jacqueline. Rather, it was friendly, and comforting, memories from a time before.

Jacqueline smoothed her hair back from her eyes. Her mind was slowing going numb as the white noise and its white lies slowly seduced her brain. She knew exactly what was happening, and knew that it couldn't happen again.

It would be so easy for the sound take over, but there were things to do, children to teach. Children like Bryn, who just needed to get what they deserved.

She smiled sadly, and picked up the phone, dialling a number she'd memorized the moment she saw it.

"Hey, Charlie. Yeah, it's me. Jack. I just need to say something I should've said a long time ago."

* * *

**I know this doesn't seem to have anything to do with Egyptians, Greeks, or Romans, but trust me, it'll all come together. I think this will be the last chapter of totally new characters. (Unless I have a change of heart). Sorry about everything!**


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